


45 Hours

by Cerfblanc



Series: The Mental Pressure of Failure [10]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Exhibitionism, M/M, Sam is absolutely hammered, Trains, Under the influence of alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 04:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18461501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerfblanc/pseuds/Cerfblanc
Summary: Sam and Nathan are on a train, somewhere in the early and late hours of morning and night. Sam almost gets called out by a stranger.





	45 Hours

I had been doing this for a while now. I don’t know how it started, or when it began. My brother wasn’t stopping me. He would have told me to go fuck myself by now, but for some reason he hadn’t. 

“Do you do this to Crystal a lot?” Nathan whispers as he turns his head to me in his seat, his headphones resting around his neck.

I shake my head tiredly. I didn’t know where I was. “No.”

“Why not?”

“She says it turns her on too much.”

My brother snorts and rolls his eyes. 

After a moment I drearily lean closer to him, my lips hovering at his temple. “Does it turn you on?”

I hear him let out a breath when my fingers slip further to the inner side of his thigh. 

“You’re drunk,” He says quietly, and goes to put on his headphones the second I decide to palm his crotch—and his eyes widen and he jolts in his seat, his breath catching in his throat, “Oh my God—“

“Excuse me, is this man bothering you?”

It takes me a few seconds or so to realise that we were on a public train, the time approximately rolling to nine o’clock at night, and a woman in her mid-forties had placed a firm hand on my brother’s shoulder, her expression wrought and drawn with concern. I pull my hand away and bury my fists in my denim jacket.

Nathan blinks confusedly. “What?” He glances at me, then back to the woman. “No, nobody’s bothering me. I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure? I can ask for that man to leave you alone—he shouldn’t be harassing you.”

I feel as if I should intervene at this point and clarify that I am definitely not going to publicly molest my brother and explain that I am currently (and probably) mentally deranged—so would you please (kindly) leave the fucking premises? Or just jump off this clearly moving train, either option sounds great to me.

I swallow hard.

That’s probably the worst idea I’ve came up with to date.

“He really isn’t, ma’am. I’d say so myself if he was annoying me.” 

A minute later Nathan had reassured the woman who I thought was gonna have my neck on the authorities’ line, to the point of making her leave with no other assertive protest. 

I was about to laugh until my brother jabbed me in the ribs, and uttered in a dark tone, “That woman thought you were a fucking _pedophile_.”

I still snort. “She’s another one of those people who don’t understand our bond.”

Nathan folds his arms across his chest and glares at the seat in front of him. He murmurs inwardly. “You sure that bond isn’t verging on incest?”

I think for that moment. “No.” And it was true. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. “It’s deeper than that.”

Nathan’s blue eyes pierce into me, and he scowls. He‘s probably really tired. 

I hiccup, “I love you,” and the harshness flees from his face when he laughs out loud. Some faces turn to us. 

“You’re so drunk.” He says in a whisper.

“Let’s play a game.” I blurt. 

“That’s a bad idea.”

“No it isn’t. Here’s the rules, you have to shout the first thing that comes into your head.”

“Sam I don’t think we sh—“

“I’ll go first.”

“Sam don’t—“

“ _SODOMY_.”

 

 

 

 

I didn’t sober up until the day after. And the day after that. Including the next two lined up after it. It ended eventually.

Crystal was a bitch. Now my ex-girlfriend. She’d stolen my peak of maturity, and I loathed her for it. I’d have rather lamely ejaculated into someone other than her.

Nathan is my soulmate now.

I realise now I don’t like girls, because of him (though not in an overly incestuous way because he’d hammer me if I ever tried to grope him in public again).

Haha. In public.

After those forty-five hours of drunken vertigo and self-loathing I downed a litre of water in the space of six minutes curled up in the empty bathtub nobody ever used. 

Eensy Weensy Spider had climbed up the drain then, and I screamed out bloody murder.

This explanation isn’t really going anywhere. I think I’m still drunk. 

Yeah. Sorry.


End file.
